


Through a glass, darkly

by Draycevixen



Series: Christmas Charade [4]
Category: Apparitions (TV), The Professionals
Genre: Angst, Christmas, M/M, Misunderstandings, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/pseuds/Draycevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie has retreated to Surrey but Doyle follows him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

.

Nigel's wife had done him proud, the cottage a gleaming example of a loving attention to detail. The horse brasses had been polished to a mirror-like shine and every surface groaned under the weight of Christmas ornaments, festive bric-a-brac and silver dishes full of sweets and nuts. There was even a fire burning brightly in the large stone fireplace, its flames reflecting softly in the glass baubles adorning the pièce de résistance, a six feet tall Christmas tree. The pantry and the fridge were bursting at the seams and the drinks cabinet harboured a sea of booze. There were enough provisions for a small army rather than for the four guests that had been expected, even if one of them was Bodie. 

The cottage was, quite simply, beautiful. Still, slumped on the leather couch, staring blindly into the fire and ignoring the glass of twenty year old single malt clasped tightly in his hand, he had never been so miserable in his life. 

 

He'd left the CI5 Christmas party with a simple plan, to go home to his flat, set a new Guinness world record for drinking himself into a state of oblivion, and hope that by the next day Doyle would have decided to join him in a convenient bout of amnesia. When he'd parked outside his flat he'd felt a sudden overwhelming sense of claustrophobia at the thought of going inside and had instead fished his old parka out of the boot and gone for a walk. He'd strolled slowly around the park a couple of times, carefully _not_ thinking about Doyle, before sitting on a bench by the duck pond. He hadn't moved from that spot until he'd felt in imminent danger of freezing his balls off and then had slowly walked back to his flat. He'd been surprised to find that almost three hours had passed since he'd left the party. The phone had been ringing incessantly as he'd unlocked his door.

 

Anson had been waiting for him at the hospital. “Bodie! Good to—” 

“How is he?”

“Not too bad, considering.”

“Considering what?”

“Considering he was run over by a car.”

“ _Details_ , Anson.” He fought the urge to shake him until his teeth rattled.

“The doctor said Doyle was lucky that he was drunk, though I think if Doyle hadn't been that drunk he probably wouldn't have stepped out in front of—”

“The _doctor_ said...” He reminded himself that it probably wouldn't help anything to kill Anson.

“Right. Luckily, the car wasn't going that fast and the doctor said Doyle was so drunk his muscles didn't tense up when he was struck. He's got lots of cuts and bruises, including some very nasty bruising to his ribs, and he partially dislocated his left shoulder. It's amazing that he didn't break any bones.” 

He gripped Anson's arm. “So Doyle's going to be all right?” 

“The doctor wants to keep him overnight at least to make sure there's no hidden soft tissue damage, check he's not pissing blood or anything like that. Doyle will be bloody sore for a few weeks but they're confident he'll be all right.”

“Which room?”

 

The light was off in Ray's room but Ray's body formed a sharp relief under the sheets in the light spilling in from the corridor. He’d been about to leave when he'd realized that Ray was mumbling something. He'd moved quietly closer to the bed, reluctant to wake Ray.

“No Bodie! Gerroff me. I'm not yours, you've got to stop.”

He’d fled from the room, turning to see Murphy wending his way down the corridor. 

“Here you are. When we couldn't reach you Cowley sent me to relieve Anson and to keep an eye on Doyle. We think it was just an accident but it was a hit-and-run and until we're absolutely sure, Cowley doesn't want Doyle left alone. But now that you're here—”

“As it happens I was leaving, Murph, I just wanted to see for myself that he's all right. I've still got to spend tomorrow finishing up the paperwork on Schaeffer, got to do Doyle's now as well, and then we're both off duty for Christmas. Keep a close eye on him.”

As he went to walk past him, Murphy put a hand on his arm. When Bodie looked down at it, then back up at him, Murphy removed it.

“What'll I tell Doyle when he wakes up and asks where you are?”

“If he asks—”

“ _When_.”

“ _If_ he asks, tell him what I just told you and wish him a Happy Christmas for me. Tell him I'll see him when I get back.”

 

He'd called Murphy several times the next day to make sure that Ray really was all right. He’d known that if he stayed in London he wouldn't be able to stop himself from seeing Ray and probably making a fool out of himself, so he'd followed his original plan and gone to the cottage in Surrey.

 

When someone started knocking on the front door, he almost ignored it. It was only 8:00pm and he'd already been serenaded by two different sets of drunken carollers from the village. Still, he had Nigel's reputation to consider and so he heaved himself up off the couch, picking up a plate of mince pies on his way to the front door. He pasted what he hoped was a suitably festive smile on his face and flung the door open, only to find Ray leaning heavily against the doorframe with a large holdall at his feet. 

“Bodie.”

“Ray, what are you—”

“Hang on a minute.” Ray turned around to wave at the car idling in the lane. Murphy waved back and drove off. “You were saying?”

“What are you doing here?”

“You invited me, remember?”

He clutched the plate of mince pies more tightly to his chest. “I meant what are you doing out of the hospital? You look like shit.”

“ _Happy Christmas, Ray_ ,” Ray spoke slowly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “ _Good to see you mate. Why don't you come inside where it’s warm and stop freezing your balls off out here in this brass monkey weather.”_ Doyle stepped around him into the hall. “ _Let me get your bag for you, I know you must be tired._ Isn't that what you meant to say?”

“Happy Christmas, Ray.” He put the plateful of mince pies down on the hall table, before picking up Ray's bag and locking the door behind them. “Let me show you up to your room.”

“Later, Bodie. Right now I need to sit down and I need a drink, not necessarily in that order.”

He pointed toward the living room and Ray shambled over to the doorway, before stopping dead in his tracks. 

“Bloody hell, Bodie, just who is this friend of yours?”

“Nigel Lattimer, John Lattimer's son.”

“Lattimer's Biscuits, John Lattimer?”

“The same. I served with Nigel in the SAS, saved his life a time or two and he's grateful.”

“I should bloody well say so. It looks like Harrods exploded in here.” Ray settled slowly into the middle of the couch in front of the fire. 

He remained standing, still holding Ray's bag. 

“Make yourself useful, put my bag down and get me a drink.”

“Aren't you still on painkillers?”

“A cup of tea, Bodie. I could murder a cup of tea.”

 

He put the kettle on and then got two mugs out of the cupboard. “You want something to eat, Ray?”

“I'll take one of those mince pies for now.”

“Right.”

He pottered around the kitchen, straightening the already straight cutlery drawer, surveying the contents of the pantry and double checking the contents of the fridge in case the goose had made its escape while he was distracted.

“Oi, did you go to India for that tea?”

He brought the kettle back to a boil and finally made the tea. “It'll only be a few minutes more.”

He gave Ray a mug of tea and took his own to the armchair across from the couch. 

“Mince pie, Bodie?”

“Sorry, forgot.” He set his mug down on the coffee table and went back out into the hallway for the mince pies, depositing them on the table before returning to the kitchen for a plate for Ray. 

Ray took a large bite of mince pie and drank some of his tea. “It’s good, this. You’re not having one?”

“I'm not hungry.” He sat down again in the armchair.

“You sure you're not the one who got hit by a car?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I've already ate several in the company of carollers.”

“Sorry I missed them.”

He leaned forward grinning. “I'm sorry you did too. You should have seen the last lot, so wassailed off their arses that one of them fell over a bush and still kept singing ‘Silent Night’ while flat on his back.”

“Why didn't you come to the hospital, Bodie?”

He leaned all the way back in to the armchair again, tugging at the welted seam on the arm. “I did come by to make sure you were all right. You were having— you were sleeping.”

“Murph told me.”

“I wanted to get the paperwork finished on Schaeffer so we could—”

“He told me that too.”

“Then why—”

“If it had been the other way round I'd have stayed with you and sent Murphy home.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, as he stared in to the fire, feeling Ray’s eyes on him all the time. 

“Nothing to say then?”

“I thought you... we, could both do with a bit of a breather.”

Ray stared into the heart of his half-eaten mince pie sitting on the plate in front of him. “You were probably right. Help me up, Bodie.”

“Why?”

“'Cos I want to get up, I've only got one arm available and this bloody couch doesn't seem to want to let go of me.”

Ray was trying to wriggle his way forward off the couch. He strode across the room, took Ray's right hand in his and then slid a protective arm around his back to ease him to his feet. Once he had Ray back on his feet he shifted his arm away so fast that Ray actually swayed and almost lost his balance. He had to grab Ray again fast, causing him to grunt as Bodie made contact with his bruised ribs.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to jar you like that.”

They stood there for a couple of minutes, Bodie with his arm around Ray but still unable to meet his eyes.

“Bed, Bodie.”

He dropped his arm. “What?”

Ray started to walk slowly toward the door. “I'm exhausted and I want to go to bed while I can still manage the walk up the stairs.”

“I could always carry you up there.”

Ray turned to glare at him, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Try it and you'll be missing some teeth.” 

“I'll take that as a no then.” He tried for one of his patented cocky smirks but he couldn't quite pull it off. 

.


	2. Chapter 2

.

He settled back against the pillows. He'd been surprised to find out that the cottage only had two bedrooms until he'd stepped into the one Bodie had pointed out as his and realized that the Lattimers must have converted the space from three small bedrooms into two large ones. 

It had taken him an embarrassing ten minutes to climb the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister and taking a few stops along the way to gather his strength. Yet Bodie hadn't taken the opportunity to make a single joke at his expense. 

He'd been reluctantly forced to get some help from Bodie with manoeuvring his arm in its sling and getting in to his pyjamas. He didn’t usually wear them but they were oddly comforting when he was convalescing. Bodie's touch had been even more clinical in nature than the nurse's that had helped him to get dressed in the first place. 

The doctor had wanted him to stay in the hospital for at least another day but he'd known every hour away from Bodie put them even more in danger of never getting things properly sorted out between them. A Bodie that didn't even want to tease him, let alone touch him, was all the confirmation he needed that he'd made the right decision. 

He winced as he tried to slide down further against the pillows. How was he ever supposed to get to sleep? He looked at the bottle of painkillers the doctor had given him and the glass of water that Bodie had brought him. He knew he’d better take one.

 

He stood under the shower, sore muscles protesting their recent abuse. He still didn't know what he was going to do about Bodie... Well, he knew what he'd _like_ to do about Bodie, but that just wasn't an option. No, they'd both made their decisions and that was all there was to it. Now if Bodie would just be sensible about it all. If Bodie couldn't be, then he'd have to see about a transfer and he really didn't want to do that. Despite how trying his work could be, and despite his occasional doubts about how much good he was actually doing, he knew how important it was. He leaned further forward, feeling the hot water cascade over his head and run down his neck. Pulling back, he swept his wet hair out of his face and blinked the water away, only to find himself face to face with Bodie.

“How did you get in here?” He fought the urge to cover himself with his hands.

“I rather thought your question would be _why_ am I here?”

“I'm not a bloody idiot, Bodie, I know _why_.”

Bodie stepped closer. He'd already slipped his jacket, shoes and socks off and his shirt was open at the neck.

“Picked the lock easily enough, Raymond.”

“I keep telling you, my name's not—” 

Bodie stepped into the shower, backing him into the corner, the water plastering Bodie's hair, shirt and trousers to his body. One hand on either side of his head, Bodie leaned forward to first nuzzle and then bite lightly at his neck, making no other contact.

As he felt his body responding, it took every ounce of strength he had to raise his arms and push against Bodie's chest, breaking the contact.

“My name is Jacob now, not Ray. Ray Doyle doesn’t exist anymore. I'm a priest, a priest Bodie. We _can't_ do this.”

“We can't?” Bodie pressed forward again, the muscles in his chest visible through his shirt turned translucent by the water. “Last night—”

“We can't do this _again._ ” 

“I don't want to do that again.” 

Bodie used his momentary confusion to press up against him again, Bodie's soaking wet clothes oddly hot and rough against his naked skin. Bodie licked at Jacob’s ear, before whispering in to it.

“Not right now at least. I want you to do _me_.”

Bodie's hand dropped to fold his fingers around Jacob's erection and pull slowly up. Bodie swallowed Jacob's gasp as his lips descended over his mouth in a deep open mouthed kiss before drawing back and muttering raggedly against his lips. 

“Help me get these clothes off, Ray.”

Jacob tried to gain control of himself. “I can't do this.”

Bodie tightened his grip on his erection, causing him to cry out, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles.

“Looks like you can to me.”

He couldn't stifle his groan of disappointment as Bodie released him, leaving him a little unsteady on his feet. He watched as Bodie's hands moved to his wet shirt and started undoing the buttons. 

“This would go faster if you helped.”

“Listen to me, I...”

Bodie's hands stilled. He was mesmerized by the water droplets trapped in Bodie's long eyelashes. 

“Tell me you don't want me, Ray, and I'll leave right now.”

He tried to get the words out but he couldn't. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost the ability to lie. He reached for Bodie's trousers. As he worked the wet material down over Bodie's hips, Bodie's discarded shirt landed with a soggy plop on the bathroom floor. As Bodie's trousers dropped to his ankles and he stepped out of them, Jacob started to drop to his knees, reaching for Bodie's cock. Bodie's hands under his elbows stopped him.

“I'd never last and I want you in me when I come.”

Bodie turned to face the shower wall, bracing himself at an angle, his arse thrust out toward Jacob. He reached for the hair conditioner and ran a small handful down between Bodie's arse cheeks, slipping first one and then two fingers up into him, stretching him.

“Get on with it” Bodie grunted, pushing back against his fingers.

“We do this and then you leave. You'll never see me again. Agreed?”

“Anything, anything you want, just get on with it,” Bodie ground the words out.

He smeared more conditioner over his cock and stepped forward, pushing up into Bodie just a little and then stopping, trying to give him time to adjust. Without warning, Bodie lunged back, pushing him almost all the way up into Bodie.

“Christallfuckingmighty!”

He had to bite his lip against the urge to tell Bodie not to blaspheme. It just didn't seem right to do so while buried balls deep in the man. In Bodie. Finally, after so many years. While he was lost in the sensation of being surrounded by unbelievably tight heat, Bodie pulled off him a couple of inches and his hips snapped forward in a nigh on instinctive response. Then he wasn't thinking at all as the rhythm built between them. He leaned forward to nip and bite at Bodie's neck, sliding one hand around Bodie's hip to tighten on his cock as Bodie muttered breathless obscenities between clenched teeth and thrust hard into his hand. They didn't last long, they couldn't last long, the coupling delayed far too long between them. His last conscious thought before coming deep inside Bodie's body was how on earth would he survive and go on without Bodie, now that they'd found each other again?

As he came back to his senses, he realized he was wrapped in Bodie's arms and Bodie was rubbing his cheek lightly against his beard. He stepped back from him, Bodie's arms still loosely draped around his waist.

“You'd better go. They might come looking for me and you can't be found in here.”

“It doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Bodie, you promised you'd leave if—”

“I did no such thing. Anyway, you had my balls in a knot at the time, I would have said anything. You have to leave here with me, Ray. I'm too bloody old to be sneaking around like this and just for once at least, a bed would be nice.”

“No one's asking you to sneak around. I can't see you again and I mean it this time.”

“Make no mistake, you're mine. You've always been mine and I've waited years for you, years they've had and I haven't. You'll leave with me or...”

“Or what?”

“Or I'll tell the church authorities about you, about us, what we've done.”

He stared at the arrogant self-centred man leaning in naked splendour against the tiled wall in front of him and felt anger well up in him like he hadn't felt in years.

“You bastard!” 

He punched Bodie as hard as he could, throwing his full weight behind the blow.

 

He sat bolt upright in bed as pain shot through his right arm and bruised ribs. Turning on the bedside lamp, he saw Bodie doubled up on the floor, clutching at his stomach. 

.


End file.
